Cakes and Thornes
by cinfinngale
Summary: After President Paylor's death, President Valor comes to power and reinstates the Hunger Games. What happens when Katniss and Peeta's daugther is reaped... along with Gale's son! Rated T for violence.
1. The Reapings

**Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to any Hunger Games characters or plots.**

Gale POV:

I was condemned by the Capitol forever. And so was every person that I loved.

Ever since Roell was old enough I had prepared him. Not as much as everyone else in D2, but I did.

Roell's mother, Caila, had died a couple of years ago, only two years after Valor came to power and reinstated the Games. Her dying wish was for Roell to escape the Games somehow. Her own best friend had been Clove, the D2 female tribute from Katniss' Games, so we both knew the consequences of having someone we loved in constant peril.

Caila was strong, and she and I worked alongside each other as generals. We married very long after we had actually met. I was still conflicted when we had met. I was haunted by thoughts of Katniss Everdeen and little Prim but proud of the rebellion's success. And now all the fighting and sacrifices that were made were wasted. And I was still haunted by the rebellion to this day. But now the Hunger Games were back. It would be the 81st one to be precise.

People always said Roell looked like me. That typical District 12 Seam look. The olive skin and grey eyes. I always thought Roell acted more like his mother though. While I wasn't very light-hearted Caila and Roell always shared a sense of humor. He even cracked a joke or two when I got my chance to visit him in the Justice Building.

I didn't cry in front of him. I didn't want him to see. Just like how I never wanted Katniss to see. I hugged him. I wished him luck. I gave him advice. But before I left I looked into Roell's eyes. I saw myself, and I saw Caila. But the one person I saw most in those eyes was Katniss Everdeen.

Being District 2, we were second to be reaped. The District 1 tributes looked fierce and fiery, forces to be reckoned with. Why can't they just throw _me_ into the Hunger Games and get this over with? My death would be better than what my loved ones are suffering through now.

I'm still living in District 2, but ever since Valor came to power I gave up my military position. How could I be aligned with someone that totally obliterated all I stood for?

Seeing Roell climb aboard the train made me realize two things. One; he was getting out of their alive, at all costs. I could use my savings and buy his way to the final five at least. And two;

Valor was going to pay.

Katniss POV:

Roell Hawthorne was reaped for District 2. He looked just like how I had remembered Gale. Strong, determined, passionate. Roell stood out in D2, since he had inherited that classic 'Seam look.'

So when Melaina Mellark was reaped, I collapsed.

Maxim, my son, had looked at me when we watched Roell's reaping on the TV screen.

"Haven't you talked to Dad about somebody named 'Hawthorne' before?" he asked. He and Melaina were fifteen years old, same age as Roell. I was only blessed by the fact that Maxim was spared. It was already amazing that Melaina had been chosen, seeing the fact that almost everyone else in D12 had taken so much tesserae. D12 still didn't have as many people as it had pre Quarter Quell, but its population was remarkably high considering its background.

Melaina, the girl with the blue eyes and brown hair, had reacted almost professionally. Of course she was already a favorite, being a daughter of Peeta and me, and she merely smiled as Brianne Kartin called her name. She waved to the crowd. I knew she'd perform well in the interviews, just like her father had.

Maxim and Peeta broke down, and the rest is all a blur for me. I hated Valor. She made me endure all that my mother had to.

Melaina was an archer, just like me. She'd be strong and clever. Haymitch, still raising geese, was far too old to be her mentor. So guess what? The District 12 mentor was going to be none other than: Katniss Mellark.

This was going to be interesting.


	2. The Train to the Capitol

Sorry for my lack of update lately! Finally, here is Chapter 2….

**Gale POV:**

_Mellark. _The name still stung on my tongue. I was honestly okay with Peeta as a person, but Katniss Mellark shouldn't be a name.

I know I shouldn't feel this way, being a widower to Caila and all. I just feel-possessive and protective over Katniss.

Of course I still wanted Roell to win. He was my son, my kin.

The District 12 male tribute, whatever his name was, was screwed. Katniss would favor Melaina obviously. She wouldn't be blunt about it, but of course she would. It was her duty to as a mother.

Melaina looked like Katniss in some ways. But she bore Peeta's blue eyes. I knew Melaina would be a threat. She carried her mother's genes anyway. And despite not seeing Katniss for about thirty-three years, I still believe no one knew better than I how lethal she is. Or was, for that matter.

I wanted them to be aligned. They would make a perfect team, like the team I thought Katniss and I once were. Katniss would want it like that, too. But the alliance might not happen if Gwenna, the District 2 mentor, didn't approve it. Man, I would not want to be taught by that woman!

I wished to Roell the day of the District 2 Reaping that the odds may ever be in his favor. Clearly, that was developing into a death wish.

**Katniss POV:**

I held a trembling Melaina in my arms as we boarded the train to the Capitol. Her brown hair mingled with identical hair, my and our tremors seemed to be in sync with one another.

She had received several visitors in the Justice Building. Of course, the first had been Peeta.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear as he clutched her so tightly I literally feared that she would suffocate.

"I love you too, Dad," she replied with sobs scrambling her words. Melaina and Peeta understood one another undeniably, so I feel that she would be better off if he were her mentor.

"Shoot the apple in the pig's mouth during your assessment," Peeta said, the humor of the words washed out with his sorrow. Melaina merely nodded at the reference.

"I never thought I'd be on this side of the story," Peeta confided, "I had no idea how this could feel."

"It must be even worse for you now than it was when you were a tribute yourself, Dad," Melaina remarked. Peeta only replied with a nod. Then he turned to me. We embraced.

"She's coming back alive," I murmured in his ear. Of course I wasn't certain of this. And Peeta knew it. But he still seemed calmed by my reassurance.

Maxim was next to visit. He was shielding his tears.

"Show them no mercy," he muttered in Melaina's ear.

"I'm not going down without a fight," Melaina vowed.

"You'd better not," Maxim said, "I'd never forgive you."

I clutched Maxim. Maxim and I shared a bond similar to that of Melaina and Peeta. Understanding and strength.

Melaina's final guest was more unexpected. It was Jerynn, a girl I knew Melaina went to school with. I still feel bad to this day, since Peeta and I lived such sheltered lives since our return to D12, I feel like we didn't give our kids many opportunities to socialize in their childhoods. To gain friends. Maybe even best friends.

Jerynn had fiery red hair and freckles sprinkled across her face. I never knew she and Melaina were close, she never visited. She hugged Melaina conventionally.

"You're sure to whoop em'," Jerynn smiled. Melaina smiled back.

"Thank you, I know I'll try to," she said jokingly. I started to like Jerynn.

As soon as I had stepped on the train, I was on the lookout for Roell. He'd be easy to spot; it'd be just like looking at Gale.

Brianne tried to coax Melaina with something to eat. Melaina refused politely, but I accepted for her, convincing her she needed her strength.

Dinner was some sort of glazed bird with potatoes and a creamy soup. Melaina only picked at the bird. Brianne was babbling on about the new crop of stylists Valor had handpicked for the Games this year. Of course I knew they'd be uninspiring. None of them were Cinna.

Zev, the male District 12 tribute, had also joined us for dinner. He kept eyeing me warily. Of course I knew his thoughts. He thought I'd favor Melaina.

Zev looked pretty dangerous. He had onyx black eyes and rusty brown hair. He looked very well muscled, probably a hard worker. I'd been indecisive on what to think of Zev. I kept having a sinking feeling that he might just kill Melaina in the initial bloodbath just to spite me.

I needed to talk to Roell and Zev. Alone. And I needed to speak to Gwenna, Roell's mentor. I did not want to speak with her, but it was inevitable.

First, I spoke with Zev following dinner. I knocked on the door to his compartment.

"Yes," an impatient reply greeted me.

"It's your mentor," I said, unsure of how I wanted to project myself to him.

"I figured," was the response. I reluctantly opened the door. Zev was sprawled across his bed, a thoughtful expression etched on his graven face. I gently sat on the corner of the bed.

"I know what you're thinking," I admitted bluntly. Zev finally made eye contact with me.

"I know you want Melaina to win. She's your own daughter, and you have the right to favor her. I'd be disgusted if that wasn't your mindset," he stated openly. I was shocked. I thought he'd be more self-righteous on the subject.

"Of course I'm rooting for Melaina," I began, thinking analytically on my phrasing choices, "but that doesn't mean I'll spare you of advice."

"I'll align with her," Zev answered back. I swallowed, and tried to speak again.

"I'm not allowing you to sacrifice yourself if you two are the finalists." I knew he knew my words were hollow.

"Maybe we could pull off your whole 'star-crossed lovers' gimmick," Zev muttered darkly.

"You're my second choice to win," I countered. That was a nasty thing to say. _'Second choice.'_ And it was a lie. Roell was my second choice.

I had to travel a ways within the train before I located Roell.

I was almost startled by the resemblance between Roell and his father. The resemblance portrayed by the TV screen was nothing compared to what I beheld now. Roell was the ghost of my best friend.

"I'll bet your father never spoke of me much," were my first words to him.

"You're right, he didn't," Roell stated simply, "but he wrote of you a lot."

This took me aback. Roell noted my expression.

"He wrote to himself in journals. Not as many were dated after I was born, but I've found a lot that were from a while ago. They mentioned your name frequently," he explained. I found myself resisting the urge to beg him to elaborate on what Gale wrote of me. I was shocked by this urge.

"So you know why I'm speaking with you now," I tried, peering into the all-to-familiar eyes.

"I'm obeying Gwenna," Roell declared with entitlement, "she knows what will be best for me in the Games." I initially felt enraged by his quickness to shun my words. Then I understood.

"That's wise to do," I conceded.

"I'm personally considering Melaina as an ally, though," Roell announced. I felt a glimmer of hope.

"You know I want you two to align. And you know that if it were possible, I'd get you both out alive," I added.

"I doubt you can pull that off again, Miss Mockingjay," Roell said, clearly trying to humor me. I was haunted, not humored.

"Goodnight, Soldier Hawthorne," I said subconsciously. I swiftly abandoned Roell's compartment.

Gwenna was staring back at me with her piercing eyes. Her platinum blonde hair looked chopped with an axe, which by the way happens to be the method she had used to win her own Games.

Hopefully Gwenna would respect confidence in my proposal.

"Roell and Melaina should be aligned," I stately with phony self-assurance. If only Peeta were here. He would pull this off.

"Why?" Gwenna inquired curtly, raising a sharply plucked brow. I swallowed. Somehow, I felt revealing my connection with Roell would be futile. I mean, my own reasoning for the alliance was the efficiency of Gale and myself as a team.

"Because Melaina is an excellent shot, and I know Roell must have been brought up well when it comes to instinct," I explained with determination. Hopefully that subtle hint didn't ring any bells in Gwenna's mind.

"I'd rather him stay with his fellow Careers," Gwenna retorted, clearly not giving my proposal a second thought.

"How will Roell catch food? Are there any forests in District 2!" I found myself getting defensive. Gwenna merely responded with that signature smirk.

"I'd rather not negotiate. Roell is very capable of finding all the resources he needs. He is a Career, after all," she murmered arrogantly. I found that hard to believe, though. Gale, preparing his son for the Games once they were reinstated. Gale hated the Games.

Despite the fact my request was instantly rejected, I knew I wasn't going to let Roell and Melaina be against one another. One of them was getting out of that arena alive.

Sorry Zev, Melaina and Roell were going to be the two finalists.


	3. The Train to the Capitol Part II

**Melaina POV:**

Finally, I had begun to stop shaking. Now all I had felt was unanswered questions.

After dinner that first night on the train, I returned to my compartment and wondered. I wondered what I should focus on. Alliances, perfecting my hunting skills, or both. And my mentor, my mother, was nowhere to be found.

I then began to wonder how Mom and Dad could've possibly cultivated a relationship given these circumstances. Romance was obviously that last thing on my mind.

Jerynn's visit was a pleasant surprise. She had always brightened my day at school. She didn't whisper about my family or me like everyone else had. Of course I'm not supposed to be bothered by gossip. But of course I was.

I was most worried about Dad. This must be a nightmare for him. I pictured him in my position. Thinking death was inevitable and no one could help you prevent it. But I think Dad had more on his mind than that. He had Mom to worry about. And he had always joked how hard it was to keep her alive.

How would things have been affected if I had fallen for Zev? When his name had been reaped, dread wove around in my stomach.

Zev and I were alike in some ways. We were both sort of alienated in school. But for very different reasons. I had a mother whose name would be in history books, while he had an aura around him that turned off everyone near. He seemed unapproachable and aggressive. His black eyes had shadows of warning cast upon them.

I crossed paths with Zev after several hours of solitary contemplation. I needed answers from my mother.

"Do you know where our mentor is?" I said, trying to ignore his irked expression.

"No," he stated flatly. I somehow found that hard to believe. And I finally concluded I would always demand answers regardless of reactions.

"Are you a friend or a foe, Zev?" I asked curtly. I saw him almost cringe a little.

"A friend, if that's even possible," he said warily. He and Mom had been talking about me.

"I want it to be possible," I almost whispered. I was being too judgmental about Zev. All I had known was to stay clear of him. Now I regretted everything. I was open to trusting Zev. I was still indecisive on my trust of Mom.

I heard her in the hall and instantly called her in to talk. I locked the door to my compartment so we could finally speak confidentially.

"There's a lot I don't know, Mom," I began, "and the last thing we both need right now is suspicion."

"I've been discussing you with other mentors," she said simply. I could read her easily, and I could tell she knew it. Finally, I let out the burning question.

"What is the connection between you and Roell Hawthorne?" I demanded relentlessly. She didn't answer, so I continued.

"You and Dad have talked about the name 'Hawthorne' before. And I saw your face when we watched Roell's Reaping," I retorted. She spoke.

"I knew his father," she began. I wondered how she could've possibly known anyone from District 2 closely. I looked impedingly at her and she continued.

"He and I were friends a long time ago. We grew up in District 12 together. We were a great team when it came to hunting," she reported. But she didn't look nostalgic. She looked almost plagued by the thought.

"Are Roell and I meant to be allies?" I inquired. She nodded 'no.'

"Gwenna?" I asked. Gwenna was almost impossible to agree with.

"I want you to be allies, but it won't happen without Gwenna's approval," she explained.

"Have you discussed this with Roell?" I implored. She hesitantly nodded 'yes.'

"He said he's following Gwenna's orders strictly," she said.

"Can I trust him regardless?" I asked.

"I don't know," Mom responded, looking deflated. I finally gave up.

**Roell POV:**

The visit from Katniss didn't surprise me. I knew that name well enough.

I didn't want anyone to know, but I was bothered by the fact that my dad had written so much about Katniss Everdeen. Even in a couple of journal entries after my birth. I know he must've been happy with Mom, right? I know that's what I should think, but the name was so often recurring it was unsettling.

Forgetting past relationships and 'long-lost loves' and 'if only,' Melaina would still probably make a good ally. I asked Gwenna once again about alliances and she still adhered to the 'Career pack' notion. Sometimes I wonder now if Gwenna's separating us was to test me. Because probably a bunch of other mentors were already lined up asking Katniss if their tributes could align with her daughter. Why not? It was a smart move. But Gwenna must know something I don't know, or at least know something more than I thought she did.

"How about Melaina Mellark as an ally?" I had asked, trying to seem unbiased in my tone.

"Funny," Gwenna retorted, "Katniss Mellark herself was just in here asking for the very same alliance." I panicked.

"There's no association whatso-"

"Oh please, Hawthorne, you know I can read you like a book," she snapped smugly. I was so enraged at the accuracy of her words and how simple to read she thought I was.

"THAT DOESN'T MEAN I HAVE TO TELL YOU ANYTHING!" I bellowed so loudly I thought the District 13 tributes in the caboose could hear.

"But you have to tell me something," Gwenna simply purred, "it's your victory at stake, Dear."

_Dear. _

"My victory is clearly the last thing on your mind if you're not considering Melaina as my ally. She is the daughter of not one, but _two_ victors!" I began to simmer down. When Gwenna just looked at me, her gaze clawing into me to get the answers, I left her compartment.

I really wish Dazzle would get off my back. Yes, the female District 2 tribute was named Dazzle. You'd think she'd hate that name, right? Wrong. It fit her perfectly.

Dazzle's reaping outfit was a dress that was basically a waterfall of sparkles. It made me want to vomit. And she always insisted on wearing glitter on her eyelids. Oh yeah, our stylists were going to have fun with that.

"Hey handsome," were her first words to me. Idiotic little flirt. I don't care if she is a Career, she's sure to be the first one down in the bloodbath. Not by my own weapon, of course, but someone will get so fed up with her in Training Camp; her cannon will go off before the old recording of Claudius Templesmith stops playing.

She was always asking for a bite of my food. It was awkward, especially with Frieda (the announcer at the District 2 Reapings) and Gwenna sitting at the table with us. Dazzle batted her eyelashes. Is this girl serious?

Today she "accidentally" bumped me in the hall. I finally decided to confront her.

"If seduction is your tactic, change it now," I snapped. Dazzle just looked back at me. Her artificially blue eyes looked at me longingly.

"You won't gain allies this way," I added, toning down the harshness a bit. I was shocked by her response.

"You haven't seen me with a spear."

Whoa! Okay, either she was trying to be funny, or she was dead serious. Either way, her irritating persona continued after that.

Dazzle and I were arranged to meet the District 1 and 4 tributes, all thanks to Gwenna.

The District 1's must've been injected with growth hormones or something. The guy, Smither, was at least seven feet tall, had huge broad shoulders, and bulging thigh muscles that probably had the circumference of the ham we had eaten for lunch. And the girl, Leena, wasn't much different.

The District 4 tributes were slightly more approachable. They had long, lanky limbs, but still looked strong. Typical swimmer physique I guess. Their names were Pelles and Ryba. They were pleasant and well mannered. Their sea foam green eyes looked trustworthy.

We were arriving in the Capitol tomorrow. I was personally loathing the styling. With the whims of Dazzle and the typical outlandish Capitol trends, the stylists were sure to reap their usual havoc.


	4. Welcome to the Capitol

**Melaina POV:**

I was blinded by camera flashes and deafened by hollering voices as I exited the train. I think I could distinguish the word 'mockingjay' among the chatter, but I just smiled pleasantly as I followed the District 11 tributes to the prep building.

My prep team:

Zelia had skin a purple hue that glimmered as she moved. Her eyebrows were plucked to thin lines, and her lips were surely 'inflated.' Her hot pink hair, curled in elegant ringlets, bounced as she walked.

Xenia looked like she was the circumference of a pencil, and I could count all of the bones in her body. Her skin was aquamarine, and her nose was pointed upward like she smelled something rotten. Her hair, royal blue with baby blue streaks in it, looked thin and brittle, probably from her self-inflicted malnutrition.

Quincy had flaming orange, neon skin. He had shaved off his eyebrows, and he had high cheekbones. The freakiest part about Quincy was that he had enhancements to his shoulders, making them appear broader and artificial, like they were massive boulders.

They seemed pleased.

"Do you like my color, girl on fire?" Quincy asked playfully. I merely nodded as he flaunted his shade.

"Quincy, do you have to flirt with every female tribute we transform?" Xenia rolled her eyes.

"She's special. She's the Mockingjay's daughter," Quincy pointed out.

The Capitol was full of utter idiots. They still thought of the rebellion as heroic and a great impact on Panem; and they put my mother and me in high regards. They had no idea that the Games and the Capitol was the object of obliteration in all that fighting.

"And we all know that the Mockingjay herself originated here, in the hands of Cinna himself!" Zelia squeaked ecstatically. Then they all bowed their heads in respectful mourning. I caught along and bowed my own head, too. My mother had been really fond of Cinna.

Zelia melodramatically wiped a tear from her eye.

"Let's get started," she said, theatrically choking on her tears.

I was instantly stripped down. Xenia filled a steaming bath, which felt relieving. I got several minutes to wallow in the soothing warmth, before I was readily swept out of the bath and dried.

Zelia feverishly threaded my eyebrows, bringing them to a dramatic curve. Quincy began smoothing and filing my nails. Xenia began applying smoky eye shadow, which came to a point and resembled a cat. She also glued on fake eyelashes that looked about four inches longer than what could ever be natural.

The waxing was what hurt the most. My skin was now perfectly smooth, but looked red and sensitive.

Then, I met my stylist.

He looked about 4'9. He had lime green skin and matching hair that was short and clean-cut. He had vivid green contacts in. He analyzed me. I felt a little self-conscious, but I had begun to start analyzing him. He was certainly more interesting than me.

Mom had said Cinna looked pretty normal, especially for a Capitol person, with the exception of golden eyeliner. As if to honor him, my stylist's vivid green eyes were rimmed with gold.

"Georgio," he offered his hand to me, finally breaking the silence. I shook it.

"Melaina," I murmured.

"What's the game plan?" Xenia inquired. I merely sat still as Georgio came around behind me and grabbed my tresses of wild, untamed hair.

"Straightened and propped up, like a crest on a bird," Georgio said simply. Instantly, Quincy, Xenia, and Zelia launched themselves into effect.

I was indecisive on what to think of Georgio's design.

It was skin-tight, and the color of charcoal.

But that was the only reference made to District 12's industry.

The top, constructed of sharp panels forming a rainbow-shaped neckline, slowly transformed into layers and layers of feathers, which flowed all the way down my legs to the tips of my toes. My hair was in sharp sections that did resemble the crest of a bird.

I'll bet Zev was thrilled about this.

All of the chariots were lined up. This Mockingjay theme was getting annoyingly repetitive. Even the District 12 chariot was coated with the somber feathers.

Zev's hair was also styled like the crest of a bird, and the structured panels formed what looked like body armor with only several clusters of feathers. And they actually gave Zev eyeliner! It was pretty frightening.

"Hm, I wonder what inspired this look?" Zev muttered with dark humor. I couldn't help but smile.

"You look pretty lethal, Zev," I remarked playfully. He smiled weakly. He turned around.

"Oh, look who's here? Our feathered friend herself," Zev commented. He was right. Mom was approaching. I had no idea what she had up her sleeve. And clearly, I was always the last to know.

"I'm not a huge fan of this either," she said bluntly, "but I'd just stick with the program."

"I thought you were a rebel," I stated icily. She looked at me before deciding what to say next.

"Trust your stylists," she replied before walking away abruptly.

According to Georgio and Helena, Zev's stylist, we were meant to be partners in crime, a dark team. They wanted us looking friendly with one another but toxic to everyone else.

Zev could pull it off. Could I? I'd better.

**Roell POV:**

How could the Capitol still have a decent supply of Botox? Because it appeared to be consumed entirely by my prep team alone.

Dazzle, between flirts, had been prattling about what she wanted out of the stylists. She was probably still burbling on and on as they were plucking and pruning her now.

My team seemed very excited by me.

"I think he looks competent with the infamous Finnick Odair!" the pink guy exclaimed. I think I recall the name 'Odair' once or twice from my father's journals.

"It's always nice to pretty up someone who's already handsome," the bright red girl murmured. I just stared back at them.

I was nicked and tucked in places I never imagined anyone would ever think to.

My outfit was inspired by the military theme of D2. It was literally composed of debris of gun barrels and triggers. The debris wrapped around my shoulders and down my arms and legs to form pants. They purposefully left my stomach exposed.

"Nice abs," the peach-colored girl smirked. I said nothing the whole time. What was there to say to these people? They were almost as frightening as Smither and Reena.

Speaking of which, when I headed out to the line-up, I encountered Smither and Reena. I could tell they were modeled after those ancient Roman sculptures I had seen pictures of. They were dusted in powder that resembled cold stone and a halo of leaves was placed upon their heads. Smither was eyeing me warily. He was evaluating my figure to see if it could possibly compare to his inhumane, gargantuan mass.

_"Don't worry, Smither,"_ I thought to myself in annoyance, _"nobody has muscles larger than yours."_

Dazzle approached me. She too, was wearing artillery. Except it covered her whole torso, leaving her legs, arms, and shoulders exposed. The weapons also created a collar around her neck. I could see they still allowed glitter on her eyelids.

"Ooh, I like it!" she exclaimed. Hopefully we wouldn't have to be all buddy-buddy for the chariot ride.

I looked at the other tributes. Pelles and Ryba looked as if they were fished out of the sea. They were wrapped in long, glossy strips of seaweed. Ryba's hair was wavy, and a couple of smaller strips looked as if they were woven into her head.

The District 3 tributes were wrapped in coils of wire, and the District 7 tributes wore armor constructed out of thick planks of wood.

Katniss herself passed me. She looked at me briefly and then continued onward. Then I finally got to see Melaina.

She had eyes that weren't artificially blue like Dazzle's, but were pale and innocent looking. She looked more like Katniss than I had thought. She looked like a venomous bird of night. A mockingjay. She seemed to recognize me.

"So you're Roell Hawthorne," she began. I merely nodded. I wondered how much she knew about our parents' history.

"I know about your father and my mother," she said, reading my mind. I wasn't sure what to say.

"They were friends a long time ago," I muttered awkwardly. Did she want an alliance with me? I hated Gwenna's influence; sometimes I questioned whether or not I should just ignore her advice…

"I'm aligning with the Careers," I tried, "but I'm promising to spare you."

What was I doing? Spare her? She was probably Smither's number one target already. How would he feel if I decided to spare her? Smither's bad side was the worst side anyone could possibly get on in the Games.

I saw her stifle a small smile.

"I promise to spare you too," she murmured. How could my idiotic promise be mutual if I couldn't even hold up my own side of the deal? I wanted to take everything back. Instead, I just said:

"Our parents would've wanted it that way." She sighed.

"I know I can't expect much in return, but I'll try to spare you if you will do the same for me," she said sincerely. I nodded. And just like Katniss and my father, we understood each other.

** Hey, don't worry, I'm not making a love triangle, but if I were to, would you be Team Roell or Team Zev?**


	5. The Training Center

**Katniss POV:**

Annie Odair and Johanna Mason sat beside me as we awaited the arrival of our tributes in the Training Center.

Annie looked surprisingly well. She was still pretty, her sea-green eyes strong. Her brown hair had subtle hints of gray in it, which obviously took me off guard.

"Hello, Katniss," she had said simply when I had first encountered her. I knew she wouldn't have become a mentor voluntarily; she must have been the last living District 4 victor. I nodded cordially.

"Hello. How is Finn?" I inquired. How old could Finn have been now? In his thirties? The most depressing part of that thought was that Finn had already outlived his father, who never got to see his twenty-fifth birthday.

"He's quite a strong swimmer. Actually, he recently got engaged," Annie murmured. I think I underestimated Annie. Of course she would always grieve over Finnick. But she didn't let it show. Just like she hadn't when we had voted about the Games with the Capitol children.

"I wish Melaina the best," she added. I nodded in appreciation.

Johanna was her typical self. "Hey, hot stuff," were her first words to me. When I had last seen her, she had hardly any hair, but now it had grown out to shoulder-length. I liked it.

I wondered if either Annie or Johanna had realized who Roell's father was. I decided not to mention it.

I felt holes burning in the back of my head, which I knew were caused by Gwenna's gaze. I ignored her, and I overheard her talking to the District 1 mentor, Asher. Asher was only twenty, having won the 76th Hunger Games that occurred five years ago. Asher was well built, but he didn't appear as threatening as the typical Career male. But I had seen his win. He hads trangled half of his victims with his bare hands.

With the reunion of Annie, Johanna and I, I half-expected the District 3 mentor to be Beetee himself. But alas, it was a middle-aged woman that looked even shorter than Georgio.

Smither and Reena were first to enter the Training Center. Promptly, Asher strode over to them and they left to discuss tactics in private. Then, Roell and that girl Dazzle entered.

I regret revealing the truth about Roell to Melaina so soon, but I knew I had to tell her some time. I just questioned Roell's trustworthiness. Gale hadn't gotten a chance to speak with him after Melaina was reaped, so he only knew her as the daughter of his father's friend. Or whoever Gale had written me as.

"That was fun!" I heard Dazzle squeak to Roell.

"Really, Gwenna? Did we have to look like a couple?" he lamented. Gwenna let a mischievous grin slip.

"I think we'll put you in several partnerships, Roell," she stated slyly. Great. Roell would be the womanizer. I wonder how many girls he had kissed on a slag heap.

After the District 3's arrived, Annie glided over to Pelles and Ryba. I hoped Annie wouldn't let Pelles and Ryba become as fearsome as the District 1's surely would. I knew she would have their safety as her best interest in mind. Pelles and Ryba's success were her top priority. I knew her loyalty to me and Melaina would have to be put on the backburner.

Johanna's tributes arrived in their heavy wooden armor. They were clutching one another tightly. But not in a romantic way. Johanna noted my expression.

"Brother and sister," she retorted bitterly. Competing against your sibling would've been unimaginable. Thank goodness that was never a possibility for me.

Finally, the blackbirds landed in the training center. I swear it was a mockery. A mockery of a mockingjay. Clever.

"How was it?" I asked Melaina. I knew she didn't trust me, but I didn't blame her. I had made deals behind her back, and kept 'the Roell secret' from her.

"Well-receipted," Zev answered instantly, much to my surprise. Melaina just nodded. Then we retreated to a small room to converse about strategy.

"What are your strengths, Zev?" I began awkwardly. His onyx black eyes stared back. He considered his words carefully, not so open to talking as he was before.

"My knowledge."

Knowledge? I'd thought Zev would be strong with hand-to-hand combat, or something physical.

"I know a lot about edible plants and insects," Zev continued warily. I guess it was a commendable skill. Foxface could've used it.

"Weaknesses?" I queried. He answered in his quick, out-of-character manner again.

"Archery." How appropriate. I looked to Melaina.

"What is your weakness?" I asked. Her gaze seemed even more piercing.

"Shouldn't you know?" she snapped tersely. When I didn't respond, she continued.

"Strength." Oh, yes. I should've known. Maxim used to tease her about it. He would lift furniture and other heavy objects when assisting Haymitch.

"Assuming you two align, you can surely survive if being non-confrontational. Zev can find the appropriate food sources and Melaina can shoot from a distance. But it's a rare occurrence that you can survive by hiding. I suggest you two focus on wrestling, swordplay, or any other hand-to-hand combat." Then, Melaina dropped the big bomb.

"And who do we align with?"

If Melaina hadn't told him, Zev had no idea about Roell. Clearly, Melaina wanted to know whether or not I would clue him in on it. I had hated when I thought Haymitch was lying to me, and I figured that if I hadn't revealed the truth now, Melaina would later. And then there was no way I could gain Zev's trust.

"It's no secret anymore that there's a connection between Roell and I," I started. Zev's eyes gazed intently at me, peering into my own to see where I was going with this. His brow was raised.

"I was friends with his father long ago," I continued, "very long ago.." My thoughts drifted. Thirty years ago.

"What does that mean?" Zev asked curtly, pulling me back to reality.

"I honestly don't know whether or not you should align with him. I know he's aligning with the other Careers initially," I remarked. Zev began to come into consideration. He looked to Melaina. She stared back at him.

"Maybe we can determine his trustworthiness in training," he muttered.

**Melaina POV:**

I had been itching to get out of that mockingjay garb. I eagerly changed into some training uniform. Zev awaited outside the door of my changing room. I drew in a deep breath as he looked at me questioningly.

"You can trust Roell," I said genuinely, "he promised to spare me. And I returned the promise." I noticed Zev tense up a little.

"Forgetting about the weird past your parents' have, he's a Career, Melaina," he said matter-of-factly, "Careers don't make little promises like that."

I knew he was absolutely right. And I wanted to believe Roell was different. And I wanted to trust my mom. But I don't even know. Could I even trust Zev at this point?

I felt hopeless in the argument and I continued onto the Training Stations without a word, Zev flanking me in silence.

The first sight I saw was the axe station. The District 7 tributes were throwing their axes with vigor. They had similar facial structure and both bore the same night-black hair.

"I heard they were siblings," Zev murmured. At least Maxim hadn't been reaped. I learned their names were Cypress and Selma. Both average height and build. They might make good allies; since they were going to be united and there was no chance they would cause our group to fall apart at the seams.

I decided to touch base with my specialty. I strode over to the archery station. The targets couldn't be any easier to hit. I noticed Roell at a trap-building station along with Byron and Kiya, the District 3's. Roell was excelling nicely. His district partner, that weird Dazzle girl, approached me. The glitter on her eyelids twinkled.

"Ooh, this is cool!" she squealed as she saw the bows. I just nodded. She could hardly position the arrow correctly. I stifled a smirk.

Zev had made his way to the wrestling station. Of course that brute Smither was there as well. I thought Zev was flat-out done for, but he actually put up a decent fight. Until he was pinned to the ground.

"Hopefully you're better at running," I heard Smither declare arrogantly. I wanted to slap him. Maybe I'd get a chance to put an arrow through that eight pack.

Mom had suggested hand-to-hand combat stations, which I knew couldn't hurt. I observed the District 11 female tribute, Fawn, and the District 8 female tribute, Jacquelyn, brawling it out in swordplay. Jacquelyn, despite being much smaller than Fawn, was faster and more agile with the blade. Potential ally #3.

As soon as Fawn stepped down I challenged Jacquelyn myself. She looked amused by the challenge.

"Ready to get your feathers ruffled?" she said playfully. Normally that would've irked me, but the lack of aggression in her tone was refreshing. It was like we were two young, sweet, schoolgirls messing around with sticks.

"Bring it on!" I laughed. I needed people like Jacquelyn to cheer me up.

She initiated with a lunge, and I swiftly deflected her. As our mock-battle raged on, my random natural talent glimmered through. Jacquelyn still dominated, but I think I was pretty decent considering it was my first time handling a sword.

"Impressive," Jacquelyn murmured admiringly.

"Thank you," I smiled.

My final evaluations of my fellow tributes and potential allies were pretty simple:

1) Smither needed an arrow in his eight pack. And Reena needed one in hers, too.

2) Cypress and Selma were great potential allies for their axe skills and loyalty to one another. The only problem may be that they might unexpectedly turn on me and Zev.

3) Jacquelyn's lack of size should be viewed as a positive asset, and I simply enjoy being around her.

4) What was with Dazzle's glitter?

I passed Roell once again. I knew our connection was supposed to be a secret to the other tributes and mentors to we merely eyed one another. His grey eyes emitted a warmth, even though his stance emitted aggression. I realized we both bore burdens. His was his Career status; mine the target drawn on my back thanks to my mother. Katniss Mellark. Everything went back to Katniss Mellark, whether anyone liked it or not. I think Roell and I would both like to go with 'not.'


	6. Assessment Time

**Roell POV:**

_Other partnerships. _Gwenna's sly warning rang in my ears. I knew she was going to find some way to use Melaina against me.

Training was…well…

My strength was my snares. I know I had gotten the skill from my dad. He never told me he was a trapper, but of course, I read it in his journals.

My weakness must be starting fires. Hopefully someone else could cover that area.

Dazzle was impressed by my snares, and my face, and my voice, and anything else she could possibly compliment me with. I also saw that District 3 girl Kiya eyeing me. I'm not looking for love right now!

Ignoring that stupidity, I saw Smither pummel that guy Zev. Zev was pretty frightening. Of course no one could match Smither physically but Zev just carried an aura laced with venom. I wonder if he knew about Melaina and me. Hopefully he was okay with it.

I was mostly surprised by the District 5 guy, Gregor. He was short and stocky, and always appeared inferior. But don't come across him with a trident. How was he even good with a trident? His district isn't even near any sort of water!

I could tell Ryba had an interest in Gregor too. I mean, of all people to know how a trident should be used, it was her and Pelles.

"Admirable," she murmured. Her sea-green eyes gleamed. She unexpectedly turned to me.

"We need to recruit one more member to our pack," she whispered. _"If it were up to me we'd add Melaina," _I thought to myself.

Was Dazzle really worth having as a pack member? She was weak. Her attempt at archery was laughable, and her axe throwing would get a 1 from the Gamemakers. I kept waiting for her to throw some spears but she didn't. So much for that.

The assessment. Trapping wasn't going to get me sponsorship. It wasn't eye-popping. It wasn't a brilliant spectacle of L.F.O.'s (lethal flying objects). I had to make this one special. And since Dad seemed to be the theme of my Games, I decided to dedicate my assessment to him.

Smither came out of his assessment looking cocky as usual. He'd torn apart a dummy with his bare hands, eaten one of its plastic eyeballs, and flashed a flirtatious smile to the camera. Barf.

Reena apparently made an impressive weight-lifting display. Hm.

I was next. If there was one thing my father made clear, it was his hatred towards Valor, more specifically the Hunger Games. And here was my opportunity to impress the Gamemakers themselves.

They were a bunch of drunks. Drunks. They were howling and whistling as I entered with my coils of rope and wire. Oh yeah, this was going to be good.

I set up one of my more elaborate traps near the Gamemakers' table. They cackled away as I finished knotting my perfect snare. It wasn't a death trap, just a little entanglement to close around an animal's foot. They could care less about what I was doing. Facing towards the pruned up morons, I stood directly behind the snare. Hey, maybe I could use my 'uncanny good looks' to my advantage.

"Hey," I called charmingly to the nearest female balloon-head, "wanna come over here?"

The starry-eyed, emaciated Botox freak stumbled eagerly over to me. She stepped squarely into my snare. Immense hooting and chortling resulted from her fellow Gamemakers as she flailed from the trap like a fish out of water. Finally, one of the Gamemakers got a sample of their own medicine.

"Thank you, and goodnight," I bowed mockingly. The Gamemakers applauded. Then I swiftly aborted the assessment.

There was literally smoke coming from Gwenna's ears as I exited. I couldn't help but smile.

"YOU IMBECILE!" she screeched. "YOU DO REALIZE YOU MADE A BLUBBERING IDIOT OUT OF A WOMAN THAT COULD GET YOU SPONSORS!"

That only caused me to snicker.

"She already was a blubbering idiot. I just had to flaunt it." Dazzle merely gaped at me. This one's for you, Dad. Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did.

**Melaina POV:**

Props to Roell. Who knows what kind of a score he'd get, but it was certainly pleasurable to watch!

The only other assessments that truly stood out were Dazzle's, which was dumb beyond words, and Cypress and Selma's who both demonstrating their axe skills stunningly. Now, what to do for my assessment.

No, the mockingjay get-up hadn't inspired me to shoot in arrow at a pig. With my new profound swordplay talents, I decided to drop the bow and mix things up a little.

Clearly, the Gamemakers had sobered up by the time I had gotten there. Roell's assessment must've been a wake-up call. The ensnared Gamemaker did look pretty peeved, and fourteen other tributes had already gone since Roell.

I swung my sword in elegant motions, striking imaginary targets with precision and grace. The Gamemakers looked bored.

I sliced the dummy into atoms, all perfectly sized. Yawns.

I was becoming infuriated quickly. I just stood with confused anguish as a Gamemaker whispered into some sort of headphone they wore.

An inky black mockingjay flitted out of some door in the wall. Really.

The Gamemakers intently observed my reaction. I am the Mockingjay's daughter. Mockingjay II. Mockingjay Jr. I reveled in their expressions of utter shock as I promptly slit the pest's throat.

Mom was the first person I saw as I exited the assessment. I wonder how she felt about being symbolically killed. She sat in silence.

"It's not surprising they released the mockingjay," she finally said. I realized she almost appeared relieved I had 'killed her.' I smiled.

Zev actually had a slight grin on his face. He looked amused.

"The rebellion against the rebel herself," he murmured. I saw Roell glancing at me from across the room. His expression read as admiration.

Finally, we got to learn our scores. I didn't know what to expect. Here's some of the results:

Smither: 11

Reena: 11

Dazzle: 3 (how did she even manage that?)

Zev: 7

Cypress: 11

Selma: 11

Gregor: 11

And guess who got 12's? You should've seen the fury on Smither's face when he saw he didn't get the top score.

"It looks like our little Mockingjay has trumped her own mother's score from her first Games!" said Bernard Jacobson, the obnoxious interviewer/host of the Games. His flamboyant hair ignited on the TV screen.

"And so has our heartthrob, Roell Hawthorne!" I couldn't help but chuckle as I saw Roell's irked reaction. _'Heartthrob.'_

Zev and I walked back to our chambers in silence.

"Goodnight, Melaina," he murmured softly.

"Goodnight, Zev," I replied. I liked this softer side of Zev. When Zev retired to his chamber, I still stood outside mine. Roell was approaching his own chamber, and we were finally alone again in the hall.

"Hello, Mr. Heartthrob," I greeted him playfully. His grey eyes lightened up.

"Hello, Miss Mockingjay," he countered. I was thankful I could finally actually speak to the one behind the promise I was constantly struggling to defend. I decided it was time for more answers.

"Does your father ever speak of my mother anymore?"

I wasn't sure whether I wanted Roell to say yes or no. It was strange for the both of us, knowing our parents felt for someone other than their spouse. I mean, neither Mom nor Roell had specified that they had been romantic or anything. But the thought was just, kind of disturbing.

I saw Roell contemplate his words.

"In a way, yes," he murmured. It's okay. I think I almost preferred the vagueness of the response.

"Do you think we have targets on our backs now?" he switched the topic smoothly.

"I've had a target on my back ever since I was reaped," I answered honestly. First child of two tributes to ever compete in the Games. Major competition. Roell nodded.

"I guess that's fair to say," he agreed gently. It was fair to say. But not fair to feel.


	7. Interviews

**Hang in there folks, it's a pretty long chapter today!**

**Roell POV:**

The bright red girl was back. She clothed me in some intense chainmail and other armor plates. They were heavy, but I was fine with it. Anything to keep a bunch of hormone-crazed adolescent Capitol girls from fainting as I walked up to the stage for the interviews. Yeah, I'm so modest, aren't I?

Dazzle corralled me as we went through the hall to regroup with the other tributes. She wore a shimmering silver metal corset and layered plates shaped like flower petals flowed outward as a skirt. She was like an iron warrior princess. Dazzle I think was really just a princess.

"Do you think they'll talk about us?" she babbled with stars in her artificially blue eyes. And yes, there was still glitter on the eyelids.

"I think they'll talk about your dress," I humored her. I saw an extra little twinkle in her eye before we proceeded down the hall.

Actually, I think I'd prefer the coverage I had today to be on Smither and Reena. They no longer wore the marble-looking powder, but their only coverage was some basil leaves. Talk about awkward.

Ryba, resembling a mermaid with glinting turquoise scales, had been schmoozing Gregor. She nudged him flirtatiously and he sat there awkwardly and silently. I wonder if he would skewer Ryba with his trident if he could get a hold on it. Finally, Gregor whispered something to Ryba and her sea-green eyes lit up. The Career pack was now a party of seven.

I must say, Smither's interview was quite uneventful.

"You put on a pretty fantastical display at your Assessment. This being the first time the Assessments themselves have been televised, the whole country got to witness as you swallowed that eyeball. Do you think that strategy got you sponsors?"

"Bet on me, sponsor me, I mean come on, who wouldn't?" (He raised his hands and the crowd instantly showered him with their praises. Bernard looked uncomfortable.)

" Need I remind you, you weren't one of the highest two scorers at the Assessment…" (Smither grew really tense here. I swear he was about to pull Bernard's arm out of his socket. Let's just say the interview ended abruptly.)

Reena's interview was slightly more evoking.

"I believe you are the strongest female tribute to ever grace our Hunger Games. What do you have to say about that?"

"Well of course, I'm proud of it, Bernard. It's about time another female tribute has won the Games. No female tribute has won since-" (I swear she had bloodlust in her eyes as she stared down Melaina. Great.)

"Speaking of former tributes, who do you believe your favorite victor has been thus far in our Games?" (I'd expect Reena to say Asher, or one of the other more brutal victors, but instead she said-)

"I must say it's been Haymitch Abernathy."

The only thing I know about Haymitch was from my father's journals. He must be pretty old by now, and he was described as 'a surly drunk who must love Katniss and Peeta.' One of Bernard's eyebrows (drawn on with red marker) was raised with interest.

"Why do you say that?"

"He survived forty-seven other tributes. And he used the arena design to his advantage. It's clearly admirable," Reena responded logically. Well said.

I was resenting my approach to the stage. My assessment would be a topic of conversation for sure. Bernard looked at me with excitement, practically bursting through the seams of his skin-tight spandex (cue another barf). My name was being cheered by several voices in the crowd. Or maybe that was just Dazzle.

"Hello, Roell. Like the armor," Bernard prompted. I sighed.

"Too bad I can't wear this in the Arena," I replied dryly. Okay, enough small talk.

"So what inspired your, er, unique behavior at your assessment? It was certainly provocative." I looked at Bernard and decided to spice things up a little.

"I'd like to call it a little dose of reality to put in the Gamemakers' wine," I said cunningly. I heard whispers, some angry, some engaged in my perspective.

"Did this idea just formulate in your mind when you walked into the Assessment, or did you plan something of that degree all along?"

I knew I couldn't mention my dad's inspiration. If Valor was anything like that good ol' President Snow, Dad probably be killed for the rebellious influence. Dad of all people had to know what it was like to have to be protected due to relations with a tribute. He and Katniss had to be 'cousins.'

"These Games aren't sugar-coated. The score was the last thing on my mind. I just saw the assessment as my opportunity to turn the tables for once," I said sincerely. Bernard looked utterly fascinated, urging me to elaborate. When I didn't, he switched gears.

"And what about love interests?" (Cue the barrage of 'ooh's.)

"What about love interests?" I shot back wittily. Even some of the audience appreciated it.

"Oh, come on, spill the beans! There's been numerous rumors about you and your partner," Bernard begged.

"Oh, you mean me and Dazzle?" As much as the thought made me grimace, the chariot ride did kind of give the illusion we were a couple.

"I actually meant Melaina Mellark."

**Gale POV:**

Damn. What was Roell doing? I wanted him to _align_ with Melaina, not fall for her. I know what a mistake that would be from experience.

The cameras went to Melaina's face. She appeared calm even though all eyes were on her, but I could see the tension in her jaw. We were snapped back to Roell. He had seemed pretty even-tempered and smooth before, but I think he crumbled. I saw flames build in his eyes, his mouth tightened.

"I wanted an alliance with her," he muttered tersely. "Who wouldn't?" Decent recovery, I guess.

"No other details you like to grant us?" that flame-haired pest queried longingly. _Don't give him the satisfaction, Roell._

"No thank you. But I'm sure Melaina knows what'll be the main topic of her interview, now won't she?" The interviewer didn't say a word. Roell left the stage.

Couldn't have said it better myself.

I appreciated both Melaina's and Roell's assessments. Rebellion. Why wasn't I devising some plan now? Why wasn't I getting supplies so I could swoop in and save Roell and Melaina, just like I had saved Katniss and Finnick and Beetee?

Then the thoughts that had been lingering in my head for the past thirty or so years resurfaced.

Katniss. Only seventeen years old. Burnt in the hospital. No forgiveness. The way little Primrose Everdeen was gone. And I was responsible. Inadvertently, of course. But that didn't matter. I had to leave.

I knew I couldn't face disasters like that again. But my blood still broiled, itching for a way to rejoin the fight, to gain back all I stood for…

**Melaina POV:**

I wasn't going to radiate the obvious rage I'd felt. Now I'd have to face the burning questions Bernard and the rest of Panem were so easily magnetized to. How did anyone know about our secret promise anyway?

I don't blame Roell for refusing to answer, because I could tell that if he did, he'd be pouring salt into the wounds. Being a great speaker was my responsibility.

"What do you have to say about this latest little scandal?"

"I think you're delusional, Bernard. My eye shadow matches the tones of my armor, and everybody just adores me! I mean, there's no contest, Roell is mine!" I saw Roell cringe a little. Dazzle basked in the cheers she received, waving and blowing little kisses. Oh, give me a break!

Pelles seemed slightly shy, but I still strongly believe he might use it as a trust mechanism. Ryba didn't hold back, appearing as the sliest and most conniving of all the tributes. I saw Gregor's interview. He seemed very mysterious. He was, indeed, a dark horse in the Games. Lethal, but certainly not at first glance.

Cypress had a pretty heart-wrenching interview.

"Would you be willing to commit suicide if it meant your sister could live?" Bernard said after some brief questioning about Cypress' wooden armor. Cypress nodded instantly.

"That's where it becomes a catch-22, Bernard. Because I know she would do the same for me. And unless the Capitol is going to allow another pair of victors, there may not be anyone to go on a Victory Tour this year," Cypress replied earnestly.

Would I be willing to die? Certainly I would if it were Maxim and me. But what if it came down to Roell and me? Or me and Zev?

"Is there anyone else you and your sister are considering for alliance?" Bernard queried.

"You'll have to wait and see!" Cypress replied with phony enthusiasm, failing at trying to mask his sorrow. Selma wasn't much better with her interview either.

"What were your parents' last words to you two?" Bernard asked. He'd clearly found a crack in that wooden armor. Small tears sprung in Selma's deep brown eyes.

"They wanted us to be strong for one another." A wave of 'aw's rang through the audience. I knew I should align with those two. Not only because of their connection and axe skills, but sympathy = sponsors. It's a well-known fact.

Once again, Jacquelyn's humor was refreshing.

"Now, I must say, I'm very impressed with that ensemble you're sporting." (Jacquelyn was basically wearing a series of number 8's fashioned out of metal into a halter-top dress.)

"You'd think 8 would get _some_ cloth, but there's not a textile on this!" she laughed, and the whole crowd joined in, cajoling recklessly. Something about her made the deadliness, the grimness, the inevitable melt away. Even Smither stifled a chuckle.

"Good luck," she whispered to me as she returned to her seat after the interview. I nodded in appreciation. I watched as Zev took the stage, his ominous black eyes gleaming.

"So, Zev, how do you feel about the whole 'mockingjay angle,' of District 12 this year?" Bernard queried (Zev was wearing a vest and pants covered in feathers, I wore a simple strapless gown made of cascading feathers.). Zev seemed so stoic, unfazed. It's how he normally was, of course. I wanted the more open, relaxed Zev back.

"Of course it's what District 12 will always be famous for, home of the Mockingjay," he replied lifelessly. Bernard cleared his throat to fill the space that followed.

"How does it feel to be mentored by your fellow tribute's mother?" he inquired. Zev hardly shifted in his seat.

"Katniss wants her daughter to win over me. As she should. But she gives me advice and treats us with equality," Zev replied simply. Man, it was like the words were being choked out of him.

"What do you think your primary strategy will be in the Games?"

_"Come on, Zev, say something!" _I thought bitterly.

"Not killing."

Excuse me? What? _'Not killing!' _What kind of response was that? Even Bernard, trying his best to be suave and relaxed, looked utterly taken aback.

"Now, Zev, isn't it kind of delusional to think you can possibly win these games without killing?" Bernard countered with disbelief. Zev merely blinked. Unfazed once again. I swear, he can be the hardest person to read sometimes.

"Of course I'll have to shed someone's blood," Zev stated bluntly, "but I know I'd be haunted eternally if I had someone's death on my conscience."

Great. I was a target for being the daughter of two victors, one being my own mentor, and Zev, my most stable ally at this point, publicly announced he wouldn't kill anyone, no matter what. If that doesn't scream 'dead at the Cornucopia,' I don't know what does. Finally Zev opens his mouth and I want to smack him for it.

My tail feathers flowing in a long train behind me, I slowly ascended to the stage. An almost harmonious chorus of 'mockingjay,' sounded throughout the audience.

"Well, well, well, look at our little rebel," Bernard murmured with delight. Everyone's gaze was fastened on me.

"Okay, how about we save the best for last, shall we? First, we'll discuss the obvious: how is it to be mentored by your own mother?"

I wish I could find Mom's face in the crowd, but I couldn't.

"We are obviously alike in some ways, but very different in others. It's not like she's mentoring herself. It's not as easy as it seems." I left out the whole mistrust issues, and the minor detail that I metaphorically killed her in my Assessment. I'm sure Bernard would bring that up anyway.

"What was your intent behind killing the little mockingjay that had been released during your Assessment?" Predictable.

"Clearly, theatrics takes the cake when it comes to Assessments. And I'm just letting everyone know that even though I might be the next generation of mockingjay, it doesn't mean I'm going to sprout wings and fly over the Arena." Wow. Now I'm poetic. I saw admiration gleam from Roell's grey eyes as he watched me.

"And how is your father, Peeta Mellark, handling this?"

Gosh, I thought Dad would be the last thing they would discuss. I thought the whole 'Roell scandal' and 'mother-daughter mentorship' would dominate the interview.

"I appreciate his sense of humor. Of course he was deeply upset when I last saw him, but he even managed to crack a joke through our tears," I replied. I realized how heartsick discussing Dad made me. He understood me so well. I'd always felt most connected with him.

"Let's cut to the chase now. Roell Hawthorne," Bernard urged. I sighed.

"I honestly have no idea how my parents could've bonded the way they did. Romance has to be the last thing on my mind right now. I mean, we're about to go into a death ring, where only one person makes it out alive, unless there's another Seneca Crane out there, which I highly doubt. And yes, I have requested an alliance with Roell, but his mentor has denied it thus far. As for romance, in case you've tuned out everything I've said before, I think Roell and I could make good friends, if we weren't thrown into a barbaric abyss, that is." We could make good friends. If only we were both getting out alive.

I could tell everyone was captivated by my every word. That's sure one trait I inherited from Dad. Thank goodness. Finally, something that separated me from Mom.


End file.
